The Flower below the snow
by sunANDdust
Summary: What if Mulan was born on the other side of the wall? Born far away from the honourable house of a hero? And what if she would fall in love with a certain young general during a great war? A general who is her enemy. Further chapters if requested.
1. Chapter 1

A golden butterfly passed her by and sat on top of a huge, sparkling flower. Little Mulan turned around so her look could follow the fragile animal which appeared so soft and innocent as fresh snow. She took a step closer, her feet barely touched the ground in fear of scaring it away and reached her hand in its direction, when she noticed the sword she held in her was not a good sword, old and rusty and the hild was wrapped in smelly rags. But she didn't stare at it with wide eyes because of the smell, the blade of the sword was covered in fresh blood dripping down on the grass and the pretty flowers. She dropped it like it was burning hot and she felt the heat singeing her skin, dropped the sword on the floor soundlessly but her heart was like drums in her ears. The moments passed and felt like years until the golden butterfly caught her attention again. It had not moved for a whole while and now started to flip his wings softly until they'd carried him down to the floor. Mulan watched the tiny animal sit on the blade of the sword where it turned for some time until it had found its most comfortable position. She bent down to touch it but shrugged away again: like red rivers the blood floated through the small body and pressed into the golden colour of the butterfly's wings like red colour would circulate in a bowl of water. "Unbelievable...", she heard herself whisper, the butterly melted away and all what remained was another stain of golden shimmering blood.

Mulan screamed. She felt her body lift in terror and stared into the darkness around her. A tiny oil lamp was the only source of light and Mulan felt overwhelmed by relief when she noticed that she was in her bed and the sword and the golden butterfly was just a dream.

"Just a dream.", she whispered and wiped her forehead. It was wet from cold sweat and Mulan shuddered from the cold night air, pulling her blanket closer around her shoulders. Suddenly somebody scurried into her room, scantily dressed and with an oil lamp in the hand: she noticed her fathers silhouette. "Mulan?", her father asked into the deep darkness of the night and sat down on her bed. Hastily the little four-year-old scooted closer to her dad and wrapped her tiny arms around him though she could not embrace his trunk in entity, she was still to small for that. "Father. I had a bad dream.", she whined and pressed her face into his chest. He smelled of warm wood, grass and peaceful sleep, a calming smell since it belonged to him like his strict eyes and his calm breath. Mulan pressed against her father who smiled down on her, caressing her tiny back with his hand. "You don't have to be scared, child."

She looked up at him with her serious eyes. "I dreamed of a golden butterfly." Mulan did not notice her fathers surprise, but she felt herself being lifted onto his lap and cuddled against his chest and into the protecting curve of his arm. "It sat on a flower and when I tried to touch it I...held a bloody sword in my hand." Again Mulan closed her eyes and pressed her hands against her cheeks as if she wanted to prevent an inner explosion. "I was so scared! I dropped it and then the butterfly sat on the blade in the middle of the blood and its wings turned red."

Her father said nothing and for a second Mulan was scared that he was angry with her for speaking about her dream, that her dream was something bad and she was almost ashamed when her father padded her back and kissed her head. "Then you don't have to be scared.", he said, carefully lay her down on her mattress again and covered her with the warm blanket. The winter winds were relentless in that time of the year and he didn't want his little magnolia to be cold. "Do you know what a golden butterfly means?", he then asked and pushed a strand of hair out of her tiny round face from where serious dark eyes looked up at him. Mulans father frowned. A girl was not supposed to look serious, they should giggle and smile and brush their hair, but his daughter was a suspicious and stubborn little thing. She nodded and a sparkle of curiosity appeared in her eyes.

"You know that a butterfly is not born in this body."

Mulan nodded. "First of all it is a caterpillar, then it does pupate."

Her father nodded. "The butterfly is a symbol of metamorphosis, reincarnation and" "What dies reincarnation mean?", his daughter interrupted him.

He smiled at her indulgently and answered her question: "Incarnation means that, if somebody dies, his soul is reborn in another life and within another body. That's why the butterfly is also a symbol of immortality."

Mulan's eyes grew big as plates. "Immortality.", she whispered. "With golden wings"

Her father smiled. "The colour of an emperor."

This stunned her even more. Little Mulan frowned, pondering on something, he knew it, but he didn't say anything before she was ready to ask him her question. Her voice was strangely mature when she finally asked: "Why do you think did I hold that sword? That sword covered in blood?"

He looked over her head into space, knowing that he could tell her a lot about oracles, destiny and prophecies, could explain her a lot of politics and power.

Oh, how much he could explain her.

But not tonight, not in her age. "I don't know.", he said and recognized her disappointed glance. "Maybe you will find out one day." With that he lifted himself from his daughter's bed, once again made sure she was covered and kissed her on the forehead. "Now you have to sleep, child.", he said in a strict tone though he smiled. "It's still in the middle of the night and me and your mother also need to sleep a bit more." Mulan smiled obediently and cuddled deeper into her pillow and her mattress as she said: "Good night, father."

"Sleep well, little magnolia."

With that he turned around and left her room, silent and gently like a cat. Mulan smiled about him, knowing that he was a warrior and maybe, the four-year-old thought, warriors couldn't stop being careful though they weren't at the battlefield, sneaking around like a wise old cat.

Her lid became heavy and her eyes were itching so she closed them and with her last thoughts before she fell into deep sleep, she looked forward for the next day. She thought of her mother, oh, her beloved mother who was such a beautiful woman and would await her with a breakfast of warm milk and rice. Mulan was sure that her mother was beautiful because her father always looked at her for such a long moment whenever their daily duties let them cross their paths. Later the mother would take her to the old grandmother, a white haired woman Mulan like very much: she would tell her stories of young princesses, enchanted flowers and brave warriors. Mulan rubbed her eyes once more. She couldn't wait to visit the horses with her father, especially since the oldest mare had cast a new colt which was as black as coal. Her dear father; Mulan knew that he was highly respected by everyone, and feared by his enemies. His men followed him wherever he would go and would protect his family with their lifes. He was the greatest warrior on earth, Mulan was sure of that.

Her father, Shan Yu.

* * *

What if Mulan did not run away to save her father and China? What if she was born on the other side of the great wall as daughter of Shan Yu? And what if she'd fall in love with a certain chinese general during the greatest war between China and the huns? This is her story!

I hope you enjoyed reading, further chapters if requested.


	2. Chapter 2

Cold light illuminated the room Mulan slept in and the wind which sneaked in through the window was icy too. But the eight-year-old did not sleep anymore, she just kept her eyes shut to stay in the deepness of the warmth within her bed and forget about her dreams. A golden butterfly – an emperor. A sword covered in blood – a heavy, smelly burden in her hand. Indeed, she had the same dream almost every single night, but it was not important anymore. Not special. Another gust of cold wind lifted the leather cloth which was supposed to cover the hole in the flysheet and made her shudder, watching her hot breath rise in little clouds. Her room wouldn't get warmer if she refused to leave her bed so she pushed her blanket away and jumped off her mattress with one bounce, pulled her dress over the grey chemise and slipped into her soft leather shoes that were fur-lined and very warm. But still Mulan shivered. Smiling to herself, she sung an old children's song while she opened the wooden chests. _"Snow owl, sing a song for me, when I'm sitting here under a pine tree, picking asters in lilac and larkspur blue while water dances ´round my shoes all through. The hills are my brothers, my confidants the rivers as they float, the sky is the other, the snow my warming coat. Oh, snow owl, I shan't bother your lovely voice and grace! Your song and my flowers for my mother when you fly to another place."_ Finally, she found her coat which was her everything, dark red as heavy wine and warm – oh, so warm! Mulan felt protected and full of expectations as she opened the door and stepped into another room, where a tiny fire was burning in the middle. Obviously one of the elder women had already fulfilled one of her duties as it was up to her to take care of her father's household. Since her mother had died three years ago. Mulan felt a numb pain in her stomach when she threw dry branches into the dying embers to renew the fire that seemed to hold on for dear life for a few hours now though it was still very early in the morning. The sun was still hidden behind the hills and the camp was very silent, only a horse neighed every once in a while and somebody passed their hovel with an empty bucket and hastened away to the river.

Mulan fixed the huge copper bowl at the three-legged trestle above the fire, grabbed a bucket and a bowl herself and slipped soundlessly out of the room. Cold wind made tiny snowflakes dance around her and settled on her shoulders and hair, frostbidden grass graunched under her feet and her lungs filled with fresh air. Spring was coming but the wind still smelled of winter, of snow and frost so the river was covered with a thin layer of ice she could break easily with her foot. It bit her fingers when she dipped the vessels into the liquid, Mulan bit her lower lip and placed them carefully next to her on the frozen grass so they wouldn't pour their content immediately and she had to fill them again. She blew on her stiff and shivering hands that felt numb, eager for them to turn warm so she could return to the warm fire. Finally, she decided to grap her stuff though she still felt the itching of cold in her fingers and turned around, heading for her home and the tiny column of smoke that arose from their warped chimney. "I surely have to get more wood.", she said to herself as she opened the door with her hip and looked sadly at the tiny fire which was sooting the whole room. The smoke was so thick it burned in her eyes but Mulan saw gladly that it vanished through the opened door and the fresh air stirred the embers to arise in a pretty fire. Humming to herself she poured the water into the heated bowl and placed the vessels she brought the water with in the corner of the room, turned around and searched for something she could cook for breakfast.

Their provision had shrinked recently during the long and cold winter but Mulan knew that neither she nor her father, nor any family of their tribe would starve. Whenever they'd find some wild cereal grains, had the great hunting in autumn or raided somebody, her father would split their achievements justly. The bigger the family the much they would gain and sometimes when the food was short, her father would spare their own larger ration though it was due to him as leader of the tribe. While Mulan chopped up some bones and flesh for the soup, she remembered that she'd once asked her father why he would give away one of their Yak to another family though they didn't have enough food for themselves during the long and hard winter. She remembered the look her father had given her and the smile of her mother, before her father had pulled her onto his lap and said: "Well, my little Magnolia, imagine: a flock of horses deputise one of them as their leader because they think he will look after them. But in the winter, when the snow is thick and the ice hard, the whole flock except the leader is starving because the latter knows a place where grass is growing and a hole in the ice on the river, but his people are not allowed to eat or drink from it because he's the leader and doesn't want to share. He's not well-born or noble, he's only the leader by the grace of the other horses, so they start wondering: why should we starve, our children die? In the end, the other horses will expel the leader who will lose all his friends, family and position and it's all his own fault." Her father smiled about her shocked face but finally Mulan understood that this was the reaction her father had hoped for.

"A leader should always feel responsible for his people and look after them, they chose him as their leader and he must do everything to help, support and respect them." "Because he was only one of them when he was born, only one of the tribe.", Mulan muttered and her father caressed her hair. "As you, father"

"Yes, Mulan, when I was born I was only a tiny boy, not stronger or better than the others." He carried her over to the fire and sat her down in front of it. "One day I will die", Mulan felt tears well up in her eyes, "and the man who will succeed me will never success as a leader when he forgets where he comes from. It's called humility."

The knife cut through the meat and Mulan murmured to herself: "Humility." Never ever she would forget her fathers words or the expression on his face. In those days he'd smile, not often and not with everybody, but whenever he did Mulan knew that one was for her and for her mother.

She took the flesh and the bones from the worktop and threw them into the bowl where the water had begun to boil, added some dried coriander, a chopped onion and some peppercorns before she closed it with the lid. The soup would not be as delicious as her mother's who had been very good at cooking. She'd been responsible for making something to eat, cleaning and sewing while her grandmother did the laundry, helped with butchering, weaving and all other work, but now she was too old, her hands shaky and her eyes nearly blind so Mulan had to do all the work alone since her mother had died three years ago. She never played or ran around on the fields like other kids when they were supposed to herd the sheeps since her family's animals were herd together with all the others. Mulan had no time for that and though she often envied other girls and looked longingly after playing children, she knew that she was not unique in her fate, that a lot of other motherless daughters had to take care of their families too. And her fate wasn't even that bad: sometimes they had two or more siblings, a father and grandparents. Mulan didn't even want to imagine the noise, the arguments and especially the work, mountains of dirty laundry, hungry mouths to feed.

"Good morning, my magnolia."

Mulan cringed within her movement and turned around juts to see that her father had stepped into the room. She ran over to him and hugged him around the trunk and now she was tall enough to embrace his whole body. "Good morning, father! You're awake early this morning!", she said and moved back to the worktop and poured him a bowl of tea. Her father took it gratefully and ruffled her hair which made the girl giggle. "I see you already took care for our breakfast."

"Yes, but it will take some time until it's ready.", Mulan mumbled and felt ashamed for herself, but her father shook his head lightly and kneeled down in front of her. "That is alright, first of all I'm going to see the other men and the horses anyway, so take your time, magnolia:" He was an impressive man, tall with broad shoulders, black hair though it increasingly reduced at his temples and strange eyes; sometimes they'd look green but most of the time they were black. Previously his eyes had smiled at her in such a moment, but Mulan saw only cold and emptiness on his iris, like a blade that ripped her heart. The little girl felt tears in her throat and tried to gulp them down but that hurt even more and made her feel guilty.

"Father..."

Though he'd been about to leave, Shan Yu eyes his daughter once more and noticed the agonised expression on her face. "Are you sad when you look at me?" He was surprised about her question, actually startled about its serious tone and the trace of hurt within. He wanted to ask his magnolia why she would tnink such thing, when she opened her little sad mouth and explained: "Because you always said I look like mother and" "No, I'm not sad.", he quickly responded and arose from his knees. "Now I have to go.", he simply said and left the room but Mulan had seen the pain of a hidden wound inside his eyes, as if they were swamped by blood and she felt horrible. Why was she doing everything wrong?

Mulan was sure her father wouldn't show up for breakfast and she was just about to burst in tears when the door opened and Yang Fei stepped into the room, an elder woman with a round face who had been something like a mother to her in the last three years, full of compassion and friendliness for her. Fei's eyes widened when she saw Mulan standing near the steaming and rattling copper bowl. "Child, how do you look? Did something happen to you?"

Mulan gave her a small smile and shook her head. "Thank you for making the fire this morning."

Fei gave her a look which meant that she did not believe in Mulan's words and pulled the soup off of the fire before the bowl could explode and leave ugly scars of burned flesh on girl's face. She knew the hard life of a maimed woman since exactly the same had happened to her when she was fifteen years old and had to marry a man who didn't want her and whom she also didn't like. Her love did turn away from her in those days and Fei never forgot the whispering and the glances she earned in future though she was still a rather beautiful woman with dark eyes and shiny hair. Of course Mulan knew that story of Fei's face and the boiling water but she couldn't imagine that a man could love her less because of that scars though she was such a warm and friendly woman.

"Of course I made fire, you can't do all that work alone. Where's you grandmother?"

"She's still asleep."

Fei nodded and caressed Mulan's hair. "Well, then let her sleep, she's already very old and needs some more rest. First of all we take care of your hair, then I'll help you with the laundry." Before Mulan could protest, the elder woman grabbed an osseous comb out of a leathern bag hanging from her belt and started combing her wild hair, then she put it into a bun with a red ribbon. "Now you look like a leader's daughter.", Fei said proudly and her jaw dropped when the girl started crying immediately, hiding her face behind the hands. Obviously she was not sad about the nearly burned soup. When she asked Mulan what was wrong, the girl could barely speak.

"Father doesn't like me anymore because I remind him of mother."

It was a heartbreaking image of a little girl crying and Fei felt like crying too. She doubted that the leader was really upset about his daughter because of her appearance though she knew that he was still suffering so hard from her passing away. So she embraced Mulan in a big hug and caressed her bag. "Don't be silly, magnolia, I'm sure your father will always like you. He's just sad because he misses your mother." It may was disrespectful to speak of the leader in such a way and Fei nervously looked around if nobody was there before she spoke on: "It's not your fault your mother died, you should never forget that. It was fate."

She looked at the little girl in her arms and felt bad for her, the poor motherless child. Fei would never forget how Mulan's father had given her a whole Yak as she'd asked him for help in her despair; the winter was the hardest she could remember and her four children were ill. They had nothing to eat anymore and though his own family had a hard time to live from their provisions until spring, Shan Yu did not hesitate to help her. It was her duty to look after his daughter.

"Come on, magnolia, smile for me. Everything's alright!"

Mulan tried to wipe the tears from her eyes but they always filled with new tears. She'd totally forgotten about Fei being right in front of her, hugging and comforting her like her mother would have done in such a moment. She smiled weakly at Fei but deep inside Mulan felt no peace or joy when the elder woman grabbed her hand, helped her wash and hang up the laundry and fed grandmother. Mulan knew that ger grandmother was happy to see another person since her only companion was Mulan and a songbird in a cage and she'd always liked Fei for helping her granddaughter with all the housework. While the women spoke in her grandmother's chamber, Mulan sat down sewing on a rip in one of her chemises and listened to them. Now and then she heard something of a wall, then of an emperor and her father's name. "What a fool he is!", grandmother cried and took another spoon of the soup. "This oh-so-great emperor does not know which tiger he wakes by completing his wall, does he? The building already started before my birth and it didn't make our lives easier." "Eat your soup, Coranja." The old white-haired woman took another spoon of the soup.

Then Fei said something in a low voice but grandmother shook her head: "No, no, no, it's impossible! You know I have no influence on my son's business, in the end he will do what he thinks best. I don't care if he will start another war with China, that is nothing new since I've seen wars come and go seven times in my old life." Her face shadowed. "I'm just concerned about the girl."

The two women looked over to Mulan who tried to act like she hadn't heard anything of their conversation. "The soup is good, Mulan. One day you will be a good bride for a lucky man."

She felt her cheeks heat up and smiled to herself. "Thank you, granny. Do you want some tea?"

"With milk?"

"Yes, of course!"

The grandmother nodded and only lifted her bowl from the floor next to her bed so Mulan had to stop her sewing and carry the teakettle over to her to pour some hot steaming tea into the empty bowl. The old dark eyes watched her granddaughter and they seemed pleased with what they saw. Mulan would be a pretty girl one day, not a breath-taking beauty like her mother, but very pretty. Only her stubbornness had to vanish as soon as possible but she, Coranja, would take care of that since her son was always busy with planning a new war and didn't have much attention for his daughter though he loved her to madness.

"You're a good girl."

Mulan's heart took a leap and it was hard to stop herself from singing and dancing when her grandmother ordered her to go outside and pick some wood for the fire.

She could do something properly.

* * *

Thank you for all the nice reviews and the support, I was overwhelmed by your feedback! Thank you so much!

Because the grandmother remains nameless in the movie I just made up a name and called he Coranja. I don't own _ Mulan_, onlay the fanfiction!

Well, I hope you enjoyed reading and please don't be angry with me for spelling and grammatical mistakes, I still have much to learn! Seriously! ^^

Thank you all!

PS: Check out my other story _Through your eyes _about _Avatar. _Maybe you'll like it!


	3. Chapter 3

Sticky sweat and pain. These two impressions dominated Mulan's perception when she tried to lift on her arms once more though her muscles were tensed and felt close to ripping. Tears burned in her eyes but she refused to let them float down her cheeks because they were covered with dust and mud and everybody around her would see them, see her cry. She stretched her arms with a cry of despair and triumph, trembling uncontrollably as everything inside her screamed for rest from the torture she demanded from her young body. A spate of icy water hit Mulan and she broke down under the sensation, nearly freezing to death immediately as she lay in the snow and shivered for dear life; the tears turned to burning ice on her skin.

"Stand up!", a harsh voice ordered and another torrent of water hit her, making her cry even harder. Tears of anger. "Will you hurry up, girl? Or do you need another bath?!" The men arround her laughed roughly and Mulan fought herself to her feet, trembling like a lunatic from the sheer wish to stay alive. Her comrades sat around her on warming bales of straw, wrapped in their armours and shawls so they looked thick and round like Buddahs; Mulan wore only a thin dress. Her father was among them, arose from his seat, walked closer to her and put his hand on her shoulder, the other one covered her cheek to wipe her tears from her skin. He hadn't done this in a while though she'd tried to seek his favour with everything she had. Today she arose very early in the morning cooking a breakfast, carried a deluge of water to the stables and practiced her horseback archery all day together with the old armourer Xang Xang. Now, it was late afternoon and she was at her limit after her father had appeared, watched her for about an hour when Xang Xang made her run around the trainings ground for missing the target and finally let her do a hundred press-ups out of supposedly no reasons. But the sixteen-year-old knew exactly why her father would try to mortify her in front of all these warriors like a simple farmer's wife: because she was nothing better than a farmer's wife and she should never forget that all the respect and the friendliness other people showed her was founded by her behaviour towards and with them.

Hopefully Mulan glanced at her father and smiled brightly when he nodded, showing her that he was pleased with her effort.

"Thank you, father", Mulan whispered and attempted to hug him, but Shan Yu shoved her gently back to her spot, avoiding any other physical contact. He would always do that and Mulan tried not to be hurt by his action, but since she was nine years old her father had changed and had no longer been a father but a leader for her. "You did very well, Mulan, you're ready." The leader of the huns turned to his men that were silent like a grave and addressed a young man who stood close beside him when he said:"My daughter can fight and survive better than you, so watch out, maybe she's the one tossing water over you the next time." The elder warriors laughed about that and the young man's face was covered with redness when his leader patted Mulan's back and gave her a rare smile.

"Now go back to your grandmother and eat something.", he ordered his daughter. Mulan tried to wipe every single emotion from her face, bowed to him and turned around, leaving the men behind. Ignoring the looks that followed her, she jogged through the camp because the trainings grounds were close to the river and in a great distance from the last tents. She felt cold and tired but so proud as if her heart had wings and was about to raise her from the ground as she ran back to their home, jumping with every step. Women stopped with their work to look after her and whispered to each other, men stared, children stopped their play and ran after her. Mulan didn't look back. Why care about some whispering housewives, why recognize staring rude men if her father was proud of her and looked at her, damn it! She ran faster, her long hair floated around her in heavy masses of mud and dirt, coloured her dress with brown stains and made her look like a simple thrall that ran away from her master. But she was no thrall and as long as her father was breathing, as long as she had hands to grab a lance, a stock or a sword she would keep her people and herself from suffering that fate and was ready to do everything her father ordered. He did not speak to her of such things but Mulan could avoid to be seen when she desired it most, hid in the shadows and listened to her father speeches and consultings just to understand that there was a reason for his change and the new direction her fate had followed since he started training her: the wall.

Surely, since more than two hundred years the chinese people had worshipped its emperor by working itself to death with the attempt of finishing the great wall that would keep China disconnected from any outward influence and their enemies but the emperor did not know which ghosts he agitated by taunting and insulting her father that way. Ever since she could remember, the two parties had collide now and then, killed and raped, ravished and burned the other people in the hope of ending as the superior and finally, the emperor, she didn't know which one, had ordered to build the wall. And her father planned to break his descendant for it.

Mulan reached their home and opened the door to the warm fire and the room filled with smoke when she saw Janitja, their housemaid, who tried to save the burned stew with the only result of burning her hands on the hot bowl. It was the same old bowl her mother and herself had cooked with before her grandmother felt compelled to hire a maid for the housework because Mulan lacked time and will to do it since her father had ended her childhood with getting her trained. Like a man.

Janitja was pale with panic when she saw Mulan, she was the leaders daughter after all but Mulan smiled at her, pulled some dry leaves and a liquor from the shelf to put it on the housemaids burned flesh. "Dear me, Janitja, one day you will burn not only your hands. Think of Fei!" Janitja grew even paler because juts like every girl of their tribe knew her story and though Mulan liked the women very much, she never grew tired of giving her as a scary example to keep Janitja from getting up to mischief.

"I'm so sorry, Mulan! I didn't know how to pull it off the fire so I used my bare hands, silly me. I feared", Janitja gulped fiercely, "that you are the leader coming home and see me acting stupid."

"But you have nothing to fear from him. He would never excite because of a burned stew." Mulan blinked in surprise and rubbed the herbs essence into her friends wounds before she covered them with the coltsfood leaves, fixing everything with a soft bandage. Janitja thanked her, looked around as if to see if nobody would listen to her next words, then she stepped closer to Mulan and whispered: "Our leader got one of the guards whipped to death by his own hand because he made a bad joke about you."

Mulan stared at her as if another head had grown ion her shoulders and Janitja looked down on her injured hand when she kept on speaking: "His tongue was loosened by too much booze and no matter how often he apologized nor how often the other guards assured the senseless foolishness of his remark...he showed no mercy." Janitja obviously shuddered by the thought of it, surely imaginung herself being whipped for burned food and she looked up at Mulan with sorrowful eyes. "You won't tell him that you know that from me, will you?"

Mulan gladly gave her promise though she felt far away with her thoughts when Janitja got ready to leave, but before the handmaid disappeared through the door, Mulan held her back.

"I'm sorry for that guards fate but I have no influence on my fathers actions. He'd rather kill me than let me try to soothe him." That was the truth, a hard truth but Mulan could speak it out lout without any bitterness considering that she'd never known another way since her childhood. Her father never considered himself as better or in a higher status but he was the leader and he never tolerated any interferences. Images of that fateful day appeared before her mind's eye, her father dragging her away from the fire, the grandmother yelling, begging and threatening after him as he carried her out to the wilderness of the training ground and her voice...her voice

_Bloody fool, Shan Yu! You will see what'll come out in the end when you keep that girl from her fate, a women's fate! The gods will punish you for you breaking their will, a woman is a woman and can never be a man, remember my words! One day all this will have a bad end, San Yu, come back, listen to me! Come back, her mother would turn in her grave in shame if she knew, a shame, you bloody fool!"_

Janitja still stood at the door and mustered her intensely, obviously her thoughts had been written on her face like a simples sentence and what Janitja saw was alarming.

"He was my cousin"

Quietly and without looking at Mulan once more Janitja left and Mulan stared after her.

* * *

The door of grandmother's chambers opened and the old woman stepped into the room, grumpily glaring at everything and her granddaughter that was about to skin some lignified grean beans for a new stew.

"Janitja, that silly goose!", she simply sat and poured herself a cup of tea with some Yak milk, cinnamon and curcuma. Mulan didn't reply anything and concentrated on her task with all her heart with nothing to hear from her grandmother but unjustly charges and vulgarities whenever they started a conversation. She'd become fractious, fractious and insecure from her decreasing strength and growing illness and the knowledge that she soon would be blind. "Since when do you care for the food, granddaughter? I thought my son had dragged you away pretending you were a man!" She spit out. "That fool!"

Mulan tried to stay calm and face her grandmothers comment with serenity but it was like a sharp sword buried in her back and caused an unbearable pain though she had combed her hair and put a fresh dress on to feel more comfortable and save her granny from ending up unconscious on the floor if she'd seen her in her dirty ripped dress returning from the training grounds.

"He ordered me to take care of the food and your medicine but when I arrived Janitja had burned the stew. I will cook some new." With that Mulan took a step over to the freshly cleaned bowl which would keep the new stew from tasting of burned flesh and cast the beans into the boiling water adding the bones and the flesh and poured some milk with pepper. Her grandmather snorted indignantly to express her low opinion of her housemaid before she gulped down the rest of the tea and let the cup fall. Her eyes drilled relentlessly into her granddaughter's.

"Oh, I am so clumsy, don't you want to pick it up for your old granny?" Mulan stared at her for a second before she bend down and took the shattered porcelain though she knew the old woman had did it on purpose. She knew what would follow.

"Mulan, you have to stop this.", her grandmother hissed while small drops of spit hit Mulan's cheek and she had a hard time to keep herself from wiping them off. Disgusting. "A woman's place is her home with her children, it is the gods will! No man will marry you if you do not stop playing around with the other soldiers, wearing men's clothing and ride that crazy black horse like a hussar. Your mother" "My mother.", Mulan growled under her breath and the old woman noticed the angry atmosphere around her granddaughter. "Don't speak to me of my mother, you know nothing, you don't know what she would have thought of this." Mulan tossed the pieces of porcelain into the corner where they shattered with a loud clank and made Coranja cringe. She mustered her granddaughter for a second as if she tried to assess how far she could push before the girl would slap her. She took a deep breath and whispered: "You are a woman."

"Oh, cut it out!", Mulan cried. "If that is your only argument against my duties then I can assure you that it will never keep me from fulfilling my leader's orders."

"How do you speak with me, your mother would turn in her grave if she knew what defiant and dismissive woman you've become, lacking any grace and humbleness! Your father is a fool."

"My father is a great man, Coranja, and his trust in my skills is an honour for every member of my family! Grandmothers should keep their granddaughters from unwise marriages and affairs, I am not romantic, you know I never was! And still you criticise and damn everything I ever did, but you are my grandmother." Mulan gave her a hard look. "Nothing but my grandmother and my father shall decide if I shall marry and end up as a housewife beaten by her husband or shall support his plans with every strength I can give!"

Coranja fell remained quiet for a second before she raised her voice once more: "You are as blind as him, your blindness and arrogance will be your mischief. How much of yourself will you sacrifice just to seek your goal: he will never love you as much as you wish!" She watched her granddaughter take a step back with satisfaction, a sheer pain on her face and faster than Coranja could push it away, she felt sorry for her words. This girl was not the one to be blamed, only the one who could not fight the damnation brought to her by the person she loved the most and would never stop to adore. But before she could say something, Mulan turned around and left the house with hasty steps and may Coranja's old eyes had tricked her but there were tears on the girl's cheeks.

Mulan ran, blinded by her angry tears and she felt the anger pulse through her veins, red and hot and boiling inside her like a heartbeat.

_How dare you?!_

_How dare you?!_

_How dare you!_

Mulan ran and held onto the nearest thing she could get which appeared to be a pole of the paddock's fence and leaned her forehead against the cold wood while she cried. She cried out of anger and the fact that her grandmother would betray herself and her father this way for it was none of her business if he allowed her become a warrior or not and dared to mention her mother in such a case. How dare she using Mulan's mother out of such a pathetic reason?! Did she think she could really order her son, the leader of the huns, to do as she wished?

Mulan got ripped out of her thoughts by a friendly whicker and saw the horse appear right next to her which made her smile. Khan, the black stallion was her own horse though her grandmother had railed against it for weeks, smashing their best teaset to bits, and Mulan had mastered every single manoeuvre on his back easily. The stallion nudged her shoulder with his soft nose and made Mulan laugh through her tears, caressing the big elegant head. Khan was unusual big and slender for a huns horse but her father once had told her, that his ancestors were no such tiny, sturdy animals.

"It's a family of horses from a country far away and I brought my favourite horse with me when I returned. Khan will serve you as a good comrade and friend." And Mulan was sure of that for he seemed to understand everything and learn as fast as a human.

A loud whicker made her head snap around and slowly but steadily dark silhouettes stepped out of the mist that circled the low mountain they'd build their camp on. The horses on the paddock became increasingly nervous but Mulan felt heat build up inside her chest. She turned around, waved her hands and cried: "The clans! They're here!"

Suddenly a real turmoil arose in the camp when everybody came running up the hill and stared at the foreign men approaching them. Mulan mustered the strange faces clenching her hands to fists. Somebody called to inform the leader and Mulan knew that this was the final precaution her father had spoken of a few days before. More men would come joining their tribe and in the end the warriors would ride. The wall.

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Great thanks to all the readers and supporters, I hope you enjoyed reading! Thank you for your reviews, I will try to update more often! This start may appear really slow but I thought this was the right pace to give some background behind Mulan's situation. :)

Please review and tell me what you think!


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